The Other Demon
by whoisanon
Summary: "No, Sir Meta Knight couldn't live with the fact that he's a creation of Nightmare just like you and me..." Meta Knight unexplainably becomes violent and insane, and a new side of him arises from it. Anime-verse. Written with gijinka/human characters in mind, but few references to it. Rated T solely for violence. Takes place after the anime, when Kirby is around six.


Summaries are difficult, aren't they?

The Other Demon

Chapter 1

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I stared out the window; one that wasn't shattered like some others in the castle. I'm sure Fumu's mother would have fainted if the big balcony window had been, and if she hadn't already fainted from seeing the mess in the castle corridor. I shifted so that I was hugging my knees now, like Fumu was, as images from this morning resurfaced in my memory and gnawed at my stomach and slammed in my heart. It was one of those nasty things that you could let slip from your mind for a while, but suddenly it would slither back and pull a pit in your stomach and make you upset all over again. I, fortunately, had not experienced too many of those in my short life so far.

In hindsight, I guess it wasn't that big of a deal, or at least in the beginning. I mean, it's obviously not remotely close to a positive experience when you're heading outside to play and you open the door and see blood slicked all over the floor in the hallway and slashed-up Waddle Dees lying everywhere, covered in broken glass from skylight windows and wall sconces. It's pretty traumatic. But as far as these tragedies go, I guess I was thankful that it wasn't corpses of village residents all over the floor instead. It's really bleak to think like that, though.

Once Lady Memu had dropped cold and Sir Parm was really close to it, we all just rushed back inside, trembling terribly. Those two and Fumu's brother, Bun, retreated into their respective rooms, leaving Fumu and me sitting on the floor and staring out the unbroken window as a huge, dark cloud amongst huger, darker clouds raced from one horizon to the other. I guess we wouldn't have played outside very long, anyway.

Fumu noticed me curl into a ball and reached over and squeezed my hand and gave me a little smile, but her face was still pasty and her hand was cold. Plus, it didn't really feel right to be the one comforted; I mean, I was only six years old, but at the same time was the one responsible for getting up after seeing things like this and ensuring that justice is served and defeating the monster that slaughtered a hundred innocent servants. So after a minute or two of still staring out the window, I pulled my hand from Fumu's as naturally as possible and stood up and stretched, although I hadn't been sitting really that long. "So, do you think it was a demon-beast that...?"

Fumu got up and stretched, too, and nodded after a second. "It's been a while, but it looks like Dedede's been patronizing Holy Nightmare again." The king had really cut down on his demon-purchasing ever since I, well, defeated the guy in charge, even if Nightmare can never be destroyed. Sometimes, however, he'd get another one for old times' sake, just to make noise and mischief. And it's not to say that Holy Nightmare Co. was something to be taken lightly by any means, but no demon-beast I'd ever encountered had been this devastating. I'd been left with more slashes and bruises than I could count, and not just because I had been only two years old and didn't know a thing about numbers, but there was never any creature that performed such a massacre in the village, castle, or anywhere else.

"But we never saw or heard a thing, and it was right outside our door..." Fumu muttered. I scratched my head, standing silently for a moment.

"...And we don't hear anything now." After a moment of hesitation, I tiptoed over to the door of the apartment and, with a shudder, pushed it open.

Captain Waddle Doo marched up and down the hallway, chanting oders in his squeaking voice. Waddle Dees- living ones- milled about, sweeping up glass and scrubbing up blood, their faces somehow even paler than normal. How macabre, I thought, having to clean up a mass murder scene. But all the bodies and most of the slick red was gone, and in impressive time, too.

I turned toward Fumu once more. "I think it would be best if we asked Meta Knight about it," I said, and she grew a tiny, confident smile and her eyes lit up just a bit. "Maybe he, Sword, and Blade already chased it down?" she offered. She made her way over to the door and walked out alongside me.

There was no answer when we knocked on the knights' room door. Fumu and I just ambled through the hallways for a while after that, looking at all the windows with no glass anymore and ornate wall mirrors that used to sparkle in the sun but were now tainted with thin, creeping, gaping cracks. We stared at the rubble-y indentations in the green brick walls where it looked like someone had smashed it with a fist just to be destructive. We didn't see any more chopped-up Waddle Dees, though.

And when we'd meandered through the castle's crazy hallways and ended up back in front of Meta Knight's room, we decided we'd knock again.

"Miss Fumu."

"Master Kirby."

It was soft, but it carried so well that I was surprised to see Sword and Blade were halfway down the extensive corridor behind us. Both were trudging uncomfortably, each clutching a lumpy bundle in their arms. The closer they drew, the more distorted they looked. When they were finally within a few feet of their door, Fumu and I gaped at the mess they were: their armor was dented and bloody, and so were they, covered in gashes that were still bleeding and dirt and a few large, developing bruises.

"Sword, Blade! What happened to you? Did you get these injuries while fighting the demon-beast?" Fumu flitted like a worried mother. Sword and Blade looked at each other, and they looked back at us, and their faces looked really sad and really, really tired.

After a second of silence, Blade nodded at the door and said, "Will you please join us inside for tea?"

So we did. We sat on wooden crates and drank steaming tea that only tasted slightly strange because it was in a wooden mug. Meta Knight and Sword and Blade are all humble servants and soldiers of the king, and those types of positions don't get nice things like china or ceramic mugs. But it was worth it because, while I usually don't like tea, Meta Knight's tea is always sweet like candy.

Sword Knight and Blade Knight dropped their bundles with a clang and began picking through them, allowing me to see what everything was. Armor plates; an old, bloody sword; rough, steel-toed boots. All of it was put away as neatly as possible given the tiny room. Fumu was eyeing the knaves with a hard gaze, and she gave a sharp gasp when the last two items left from both piles were a night sky-colored cape and a stern steel mask.

"Where is Sir Meta Knight!?" she spat at the two while they put each possession away gingerly. Sword and Blade just looked at her and sat on their own sad crates and took their own mugs of tea and sighed.

"...In the dungeon," Blade Knight said softly. "He's... insane. Just completely mad." His face twisted when he spoke, like it hurt to say such things. It probably did.

"He tore through the castle this morning," Sword continued bitterly. "Broke fifty windows and mirrors, killed a hundred Waddle Dees. Attacked us when we tried to stop him... Screaming the entire time." He looked away, running a thumb down one of the cuts on his arm.

Fumu and I just stared, blinking in awe. "He was..." Fumu started, just a whisper, but it sounded like she was going to cry. I just didn't know what to feel; I didn't know whether or not to believe them. Meta Knight was cold, stern, poised, aloof, intelligent, humble, calm, and the most sane man in Dreamland, without any shadow of a doubt. It was literally impossible to imagine him beserk, in a rage, flying through the corridors, screaming and destroying anything in his path. The very thought of it clouded up my mind.

Blade Knight cleared his throat. "We had to incapacitate him somehow, so we eventually managed to lock him down there." He sighed again, wearily. "He was removed of armor in order to prevent him from hurting himself. He's very... unstable."

"Speaking of which..." Blade Knight rose, moved to retrieve something hanging with Meta Knight's armor, and returned. "Master Kirby, it would be of a great help if you could see to Galaxia's safety." He held out a weathered belt, the powerful golden sword resting in its hilt attached to it.

I gaped. "How did you...?"

Blade just shook his head. "Sir Meta Knight didn't even try to stop us from taking it. For some reason, he was fighting with one of my weapons." Blinking in surprise, I took the belt tentatively and adjusted it to secure the sword around my own waist. I'd wielded Galaxia few times in my short life, but it became part of my body and consciousness when I took it in my hands, just as it would for anoter worthy swordsman. Now it just felt wrong, though, to have it in my possession. It was Meta Knight's sword.

"What... what are you going to do? He can't just stay down there forever!" Fumu stammered indignantly, clutching her mug.

The knights both lowered their heads. "We'll just have to see him continually and hope he returns to... normal..."

It was apparent that the two were distraught and it was uncomfortable to talk about what had happened, so we thanked them for the tea and left quietly. Fumu and I sauntered silently back to the minister's apartment with slumped shoulders and low heads. Looking at the broken windows was depressing and confusing; there was nothing right about it, and nothing that made remote sense as an answer.

We, unfortunately, ended up passing the tiny door to the dungeon on our trip back home. It was just like any regular door, just never opened. It was almost funny, really, because the words "to the dungeon" along with "death penalty" were frequent to pass doctor Escargon's lips when the king got upset about things, but nobody and nothing had ever, ever been sent to suffer either one, as far as I knew.

We just stopped and stared at the door when we passed it, imagining Meta Knight locked in a cell about a mile down the stairs. I couldn't bear to imagine him down there, screaming to the pitch dark, so I turned to Fumu and asked, "Do you think I could go down there sometime if I asked Sword and Blade?"

"No!" Fumu snapped, and I stepped back in surprise. "Why would you ask something like that, Kirby? He's insane! He could kill you!"

"But he's unarmed! What if it could help him rec-"

"Kirby, no. You're just a child! Didn't you see what he did to his own friends? God, Kirby..."

I'd made her really upset, asking that. But I wasn't a baby anymore, and I somehow had convinced myself that maybe I could help Meta Knight if I could just see him. And I wanted to understand what had made him a monster.

Truly, nothing interesting or remarkable happened for three days after that. I spent those nights at the Cabinet Minister's apartment, because I spent the days in the castle so much, going with Fumu often to ask Sword and Blade if anything had changed. Life went on, I guess, but I didn't feel it around me. My mind was constantly occupied with worry and a sense that something was missing and lost, even if Meta Knight was seldom seen around the castle on most days.

So there's not much more to be said about the fact that, on the fourth night afterward, I deemed myself mature and capable enough to disregard Fumu's stern urgency. It was simply too easy to sneak out of the apartment in the dead of night and through a few corridors to the dungeon door; no squeaky floors or creaking hinges to even add a sense of excitement. I was only a bit nervous. It was so absurd-sounding to speak of Meta Knight screaming and crashing through the castle that I didn't anticipate it much.

The night was warm and windy, as could be felt in the breezes that soared through a number of broad windows that hadn't been repaired yet. I carried with me one of those wooden mugs of sweet tea. I figured he would appreciate it.

After a single, deep, self-assuring breath, I unceremoniously pulled open the tiny dungeon door that looked just like any other door and began and eventually finished the extensive trek down the stairs. It only grew darker and colder with each step, and anxiety was beginning to pull at my stomach. Ten minutes of winding descension later, I shivered in winter-like chill and squinted towards a pathetic flicker of light a long way away. I tiptoed toward it. The tea was now lukewarm at best.

The light never got any more luminous, even after moving toward it. It was cupped in the glass mouth of an oil lantern hanging from the wall next to the only occupied cell in the prison; it was at such an angle that it did little to illuminate the cell, weak as it was in the first place. But it cast enough of a glow that I could make out a lean figure lying parallel to the bars. And it took me aback more than I would have thought it to.

First of all, the fact that Meta Knight was stiff on his side, on the floor, was unnerving in itself. His previous presentations of always standing as tall as your honor made it an unusual sight for him to even be sitting, but his lying on the cold stone of the dungeon made him look broken. That, and the fact that he wore no armor or mask, and his half-lidded silver eyes that stared nowhere and looked positively lifeless, it all suddenly frightened me.

But before I had any chance to retreat back upstairs into the light, Meta Knight bolted upright, and in doing so swung a leg out and kicked the barred gate of the cell. That resulted in such a deafening, rattling clatter that it would have scared me out of my skin in broad daylight. "Who's there!?" He shouted.

I was trembling now. Had it been a normal demon-beast, I would have been fine, but it was Meta Knight's voice that sounded so demonic, and that was terrifying. "I-it's me, Kirby," I squeaked.

"Kirby..." His eyes seemed to soften at that, and he looked at me almost dreamily. Just as quickly, though, his gaze turned into a glare, and he gripped the call bars rigidly. "Kirby. Help me. Let me out."

Unsure of what to do, I stammered. "I, uh... Sword and Blade..."

The metal rattled again as he shook the bars, agitated. "Kirby. Please." And he collapsed, falling back to the floor and screwing his eyes shut. "Help me," he whispered. "Oh god, please, help me, let me out. Let me out!" I stepped back and took a shaky breath. It sounded like he was about to break down, and it looked like he was panting now, with sweat pouring down his face even though I could nearly see my breath. I could have bolted up all those stairs in seconds to get away from this, but I didn't. I had to help him somehow.

I approached again defensively, about to murmur whatever calm, sane words I could, but was immediately rooted in place by the freezing, prickling tremor that shot up my frame as a wail ripped through the dungeon. "_NIGHTMARE!"_ He shrieked, clutching his head while pained tears streamed down his face, but I didn't run. I couldn't. Tears pricked my eyes as well, because I was terrified. I didn't feel grown-up anymore; I didn't feel like the one who was responsible for being brave.

He screamed again. "Oh god, Nightmare, he's-in-side-m-help-help me, oh god, I'm _dying_! _LET ME OUT!"_

I gasped, remembering to breathe, my brain begging me to run and my legs doing nothing in response. I just stood, unblinking, shaking, until he dropped into complete silence again. My heart was about to explode, but the only thing I could manage to do was lift a trembling hand and grasp the gate that separated me from the insane man that was my mentor.

Meta Knight's eyes flashed, then blended to glow a soft green. He stared into my eyes and visibly relaxed again, but remained that way for several stale minutes. "K-Kirby," he whispered finally, and it wasn't a question and it wasn't fearful, just unstable. It was like he knew who I was and almost like he remembered who he was.

I took the chance and spouted everything I could think of. "Yes, it's me, Kirby, don't you remember? I'm your...f-friend, and you're Meta Knight..."

He only stared, but it seemed like he was comprehending. He waited until I faltered, and after a moment asked, "W-what's happening to me?"

"I-you're, um, something happened and you killed some Waddle Dees, but it's-"

"I'm a monster."

I stopped short. I was thrown a bit off guard by how calm but disappointed he sounded to be saying such simple, terrible words. Once again, it was so bizarre to hear such a thing coming from the man who spent his time trying to rid the world of monsters and see to everyone's safety from them.

"N-no, you're not," I said firmly, remembering to keep my voice level, "you're Sir Meta Knight and you're a Star Warrior and you're my mentor and you fight monsters to defeat Nightmare and you defend the kingdom and live in the castle and..."

"What have I become?" It was so soft, but it stopped my ramblings once again. Without warning, he shot an arm between two cell bars, causing me to leap back in surprise. It wasn't me he was grabbing for, though; he stretched toward something on the floor, something just out of reach. It was a dusty, flat, black oblong shape resting in the filth, and I didn't know what it was but his gaze was so intent and his yearning fingers so desperate and prepared to clasp around it that I closed the space between it and him, handing him the piece of trash without a second thought.

He pulled it toward himself, a flash of light winking at me as he turned the shard of mirror over before staring deep, deep into it for several seconds, like he could see his entire soul in that tiny fragment.

And in a quick, sweeping motion, before I could have even hoped to see it coming, he curled his fingers around the mirror piece, pulled it away from himself perpendicular to his body, and drove it swiftly through his own chest.

I screamed, throwing my hands through the bars, but Meta Knight didn't even see me. There was a huge, demonic, horrible grin on his face as he yanked the shard out of him again and threw it to the far wall; it tapped the stones and skidded to the floor with a tinkling sound. Meta Knight fell to the floor, eyes completely dim, the grin having fallen from his face while dark, dark blood began to pool around him. I cried out again, so hopelessly lost an confused now, my mind was reeling, oh god, what had just happened? He was doing so well; he'd been sane for a moment, but...?

What could I _do_? There was so, so much blood, oh god, was he already dead? Who was there to help him? Nothing like this ever happened in the village... _Why was there so much blood?_

I was choking or hyperventilating or something, but I stared at the blood that was still collecting around him. The soft candle glowed on it, and from its sheen it almost looked a deep, foreboding purple color. Like, exactly the same color as dark matter.

And I fell into silence as it trickled and flowed over the piece of mirror laying by the wall, and it appeared that a fog or haze or glow poured over its surface. It rested there for a moment, billowing, rising off like smoke, then slowly rose, gracefully and silently, into a tall mass. It continued to shape itself until it fell away like ashes or smoke, seeping into the floor of the cell, leaving a figure standing where the mirror rested moments ago.

I gazed, dumbfounded, at what rose from the dark matter, which was essentially Sir Meta Knight except much darker. The creature had piercing red eyes and its skin was somehow pale and dark at the same time, like ivory in shade or dusted with soot. It wore the same thing as his counterpart-just a shirt and simple slacks, no armor. It stared right at me, blinked once, twice, then suddenly snapped its head to the side and began roaming around the cell as if searching for something, not acknowledging my presence.

I was still shaking, mouth halfway open. Was this thing Meta Knight...? My eyes wandered hesitantly to what I hoped wasn't a corpse still sprawled on the concrete floor, now devoid of any dark matter, blood, or whatever else.

Fleeing was an idea that quickly occupied my mind, but there was no way I could attempt it without drawing attention to myself. Besides, I was fairly certain it had noticed me already, so I took a chance with the hesitant, questioning words that were crowding my mouth.

"Who are you?" It was such a simple question that hardly ever returned answers, but I had to begin somewhere. The creature, whatever it really was underneath its guise of a dark doppelganger, flicked its cold gaze in my direction and returned to looking for whatever it wanted. My breath caught in my throat when it dropped to its knees, perpendicular to real Meta Knight's body, as if it was about to stab him again.

"What did you do to him?" I cried suddenly, realizing I was completely unable to help my mentor and he could very well have just killed himself.

The dark Meta Knight looked up at me and remained silent for a minute, his fiery eyes burning through mine. "Nothing," he said, and I was so startled by how calm, smooth, bored, and absolutely identical to the real knight his voice was. "He fell apart because he was weak." The demon rose again, never taking his eyes off me, face expressionless; just when I thought it wouldn't inflict any injury to Meta Knight, it threw a sharp kick to the back of his skull and smirked at the horror that seized me by the throat.

"No, Sir Meta Knight couldn't live with the fact that he's a creation of Nightmare just like you and me," and as it said that, it rolled his shoulders back and unfurled two huge, bat-like wings whose tips curled against either wall of the cell. Before I could do anything in reaction, though, Dark Meta Knight folded his wings against his back again, stepped over the body on the ground, reached through the barred gate, and grabbed my shoulder.

Immediately I was drowned in a spinning, dizzying sensation, the world around me blurred and got even darker than it already was and I was going to be sick, I couldn't feel or hear or see anything anymore, like I was about to faint or fall or die or something...

And then he took his hand away. I wanted to scream, _what did you do to me_, like a confused child, but the demon stepped back and I could see he was now holding something in his hands.

Meta Knight's belt.

Oh, god. I really did feel like fainting now, Blade's words _see to Galaxia's safety_ slipping through my head like sand escaping between one's fingers.

"Here it is," Dark Meta Knight murmured, a touch of proud contentedness in his voice in knowing that he'd found what he was looking for. His slender fingers hovered over the handle of the sword still in its sheath, and I leaped back, cringing, awaiting the deadly electrocution that would end this monster just as it mercilessly executed anyone unworthy who tried to wield the sword.

He grasped Galaxia and pulled it slowly from the belt, a smile ghosting on his shaded lips as it materialized with an electric glow and a hum. I could only watch in hopeless defeat, unable to believe that a creation of Nightmare just took in its hands the most noble and powerful sword in the universe.

The demon ran a finger over the smooth edge of the blade, then lifted its head to meet my eyes. "Don't you see?" He smiled wickedly with a superior, vain, dark tone to his voice that the real Meta Knight would never speak with. "I _am_ the real Meta Knight now."

Those words smacked me with full force. Dark Meta Knight turned, and I screamed as he pressed the golden blade against real Meta Knight's cold, pale neck. At the last moment, though, he pulled his arm back and crashed the sword into the cell gate, swiping it across the metal with a high, fierce clang. I was thrown backwards by the force, and when I collected myself I faced curling, glowing-hot chunks of metal sizzling on the floor, the gate torn to shreds beneath the combination of a great sword and a deadly swordsman. Dark Meta Knight stepped from the cell finally, unflinching while moving around burning steel, and stalked toward me slowly.

I panicked; I was about to be cornered with no weapon against Nightmare's rendition of the strongest, most intelligent swordsman on Popstar, wielding the most powerful sword in the universe that was now indifferent to the malicious, bloodthirsty intent of its user. His eyes glowed like blood not yet spilled as he drove me deeper into the shadows of the dungeon, his lip twitching with amusement. He was exactly like Meta Knight, yet so much different; the real swordsman would never take pride in the fear of an opponent, and this creature seemed to relish it...

But then he halted, like he grew bored of hunting me down, and he returned Galaxia to its sheath and crossed his arms. "At ease, Star Warrior," he sneered. "I have no interest in killing you yet." _Yet._ He turned and strode toward the stairs, his gait determined and proud. "After all, it wouldn't be fun if it wasn't a fair fight, would it? Go get some sleep." He didn't look back; just snapped out his monstrous wings and gave one immensely powerful pulse that sent him soaring up the mile-long staircase and pushed a gust of cold air that knocked me backwards and extinguished the pitiful oil lantern, leaving me alone in deep darkness once more.

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I'm debating whether or not I should continue. Reviews are much appreciated. Thanks for reading!


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